


Lie with Me

by bulletproofboyscoutkookies



Category: SHINee, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Dancer Lee Taemin, Dancer Park Jimin (BTS), Dom Park Jimin (BTS), F/M, Idol Lee Taemin, Idol Park Jimin (BTS)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28854819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulletproofboyscoutkookies/pseuds/bulletproofboyscoutkookies
Summary: Jimin’s collab stage with Taemin leaves you breathless, enraptured, and, most importantly, jealous.
Relationships: Park Jimin (BTS)/Reader
Kudos: 12





	Lie with Me

The lights dimmed on the stage and as a collective unit, the audience’s hearts raced as the lights slowly started to shine. A single figure stood posed, waiting in silence for the first beat.

You wanted to be a proud girlfriend.

You cheered along with the maniac fans as you watched the stage glitter a dangerous red as Taemin broke into a sexy routine. You held your breath, watching the idol manipulate his body until it felt like he was the one producing the music. Every flick of his wrist maintained the beat, his shoulders forming the melody. Taemin moved like an orchestra conductor. The music was his to control. But even though you watched in awe, your heart ached for more. Taemin was undeniably the king of dance, but you were waiting for someone else. The prince.

The anticipation in your chest threatened to burst until, finally, a single spotlight shone on a mop of silver hair. You clenched your clammy palms together in a wordless prayer as your boyfriend looked up at the audience, a smirk playing across his lips. The haunting red lights returned as your boyfriend tilted his head back, allowing the music to play across his bare skin. The opening notes leapt from his collar bone to his sharp jawline. The notes sashayed back down his exposed neck through his hands until he was nothing more than a puppet.

If Taemin had complete, domineering control over the music, then Jimin was the opposite. He was a slave, forced to do the music's bidding. The music used him, contorting his body to its rhythm. The loud bass exploded from his chest, his knees, his fingers. The sinuous curves of his body melted into the melody. His face molded to form the lyrics.

Jimin was living, breathing art.

When Taemin eventually returned to the stage, you were still raptly locked on Jimin's form. But despite your fixation, you couldn't help but note the fire in his eyes as he exchanged gazes with Taemin. You watched as the two danced in unison. Although they danced the same choreography, Taemin was ice while Jimin was fire. Crystal slid through Taemin's veins as his arms sculpted the music. Lava trailed down Jimin's torso as his chest carved the rhythm.

The crowd was breathless.

You were jealous.

The routine finally ended and you were close enough to see the idols both panting heavily, their chests moving up and down as if they were still performing. You were sure beads of sweat littered Jimin’s face. He shot a tired glance at Taemin before the two smiled at the receptive crowd.

The lights on the stage finally dimmed, leaving the crowd suspended in an otherworldly nothingness. The hushed roar of amazement from the crowd washed over you. You closed your eyes and could feel the rapid pulsing of your heart, the soft exhale of your breathing, the rivulet of sweat trailing down your neck from the hot, overwhelming proximity of the crowd, and the undeniable wetness pooling in between your thighs.

Your anticipation only grew as you suffered through the rest of the acts. All the idols were talented, but their performances all paled in comparison to the vulnerability, authenticity, and immense power of Taemin and Jimin’s collaboration.

When the setlist was finally over, you’re one of the masses surging out of the small venue, but you quickly leave them behind when you take a sharp right turn, branching off into the backstage area, a privilege you were allotted due to your boyfriend.

You searched for him as you peered into cluttered dressing room after cluttered dressing room, but it is your sense of hearing, and not sight, that leads you to your prey.

Jimin is sitting on a folding chair in his dressing room, his eyes closed as he hums softly to himself, a cool towel lying across his forehead. He’s still dressed in his stage outfit, tight, black leather pants clinging to every ripple of muscle, a loose fitting silky blue shirt that would have been more captivating if it didn’t dip below his collar bone forcing attention to his flawless skin, a thick choker resting against his neck. The sequined jacket, at least, is discarded on the table, allowing your eyes to trail each sharp angle of Jimin’s sculpted figure.

“Sweetheart,” you murmured softly, the fire in your chest erupting as you can’t help but stare at the beautiful god before you.

Jimin turns at your voice, peering at you underneath the towel, a soft smile blooming across his face. “Y/n,” he rasps, his throat still dry from his performance, “what did you think?”

If it had been anyone besides Jimin, anyone who was more confident or self-assured, you would have assumed the question was a coy attempt at seduction. A foreplay of word before something heavier would follow.

But knowing your boyfriend, knowing that his perfect body was brimming with anxiety, overflowing with self-doubt, and fueled by a feeling of insufficiency, you knew that Jimin was being serious. That he truly did not know the effect he had on the crowd. The effect he had on you.

“Jimin,” you stared at his radiant face, pausing to find sufficient words to convey the indescribable feelings his performance had evoked. “You danced like you would never dance again. You seduced the crowd like they were your brides on their wedding night. Your chemistry with Taemin was ineffable.” Your voice tripped over the last sentence, the accuracy a sharp pain in your chest. Jimin and Taemin were truly ice and fire, two opposites that fit perfectly. That had more chemistry than anyone. Than you and Jimin.

Jimin’s furrowed brow relaxed at your words, sighing contentedly. “So I made you proud then.” He teased.

“Proud is one of my emotions, yes,” you bit your tongue, refusing to unbridle your jealousy.

Jimin immediately caught your tone of voice, and he sat up in his chair, cold towel forgotten. He blinked as he leaned forward, staring deeply into your eyes.

Up close his makeup was enchanting. His blue contacts were accentuated by the thin eyeliner, the rich eyeshadow, and the subtle contouring. He leaned close enough that you could feel his hot breath fanning across your face, sparking a prickling sensation on the back of your neck. “Then what, love, are the other emotions?”

You blinked in nervousness at the proximity, dragging your gaze away from his piercing, inquisitive eyes and to his plump, red lips. “Why does it matter?”

Jimin smirked at your obvious discomfort, noting the effect of his presence on you as he watched the quiet shiver of your shoulders, the nervous dance of your fingers, the slight, rosy blush on your cheeks, the not-so-subtle clenching of your thighs. He trailed his fingers under your chin gently, pulling you closer to him, until you were practically sharing the same air. “Tell me, princess.”

You shut your eyes, unable to avoid the exposing stare as Jimin’s eyes stripped you bare, analyzing your every movement. “I also felt,” you paused, dragging your tongue along your suddenly dry lips. A worried movement that did not go unnoticed by Jimin. “I guess I just felt jealous.” You relented.

“Jealous,” Jimin tasted the word, rolling it around in his mouth. “What could you possibly have to be jealous of my one and only love?” His fingers left your chin, trailing upwards to your quivering lips. He ran his thumb across your bottom lip, reveling in the softness.

“Of your chemistry with Taemin,” you confessed, eyes closing in embarrassment. “I was jealous of the way you looked at him, the way your bodies moved together.”

Jimin’s eyes widened in amazement and you expected him to pull away from you to laugh. But instead, Jimin’s gaze turned sultry and he roughly grabbed the sides of your head, leaving a teasing kiss on the side of your mouth. “You’re the last one who has any competition, princess,” he murmured against your satiny skin.

You turned your head towards him desperately seeking the warmth of his kiss. But Jimin merely smirked, leaning backward, just out of reach. “I guess I’ll just need to prove it to you then,” Jimin mused, elation dancing in his eyes.

“Prove what,” you blinked curiously, not yet sure what game you had managed to entrench yourself in.

“Prove who I have the best chemistry with,” Jimin smirk grew as he stepped away from you. “I think my love deserves a private show for the jealousy I inflicted.” He gestured to the unassuming folding chair, following you with his eyes as he watched you nervously sit down, the cold metal making it difficult for you to relax, your muscles standing on edge as you stared at Jimin carefully.

Once you were seated, Jimin’s smirk only grew as he hovered above you, enjoying the empty moment filled with your timid anticipation. He closed his eyes, expelling a soft breath before he inclined his neck, beginning the familiar dance routine.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched Jimin slip into utter ecstasy as he manifested emotion with his arms, embraced power with his legs. You had seen him do this dance countless times before, back from when he had learned it for the first time, but he had never been this breathtaking. Something about the atmosphere, alit with a daring promise of things to come, was different than any of his stages. The absence of a backing track was inconsequential to the instrument that was Jimin’s body, to the light painting as he fought to catch his breath, to the soft murmur of his hands grazing his silk shirt, and the slight squeak of his shoes on the wooden floors. The proximity of the performance was also breathtaking. You could see every tremble of Jimin’s muscles, every drop of sweat glittering along his forehead, every slight twitch of his lips.

In a break from his routine, Jimin sauntered closer to you, causing your heart to stop, as he danced close enough to you that you can almost feel his movements, the air in between you negligible.

You make a valiant effort to keep your eyes trained on Jimin’s beautiful face as he serenades you with his dance, but instead, you’re drawn to his sculpted chest that is effortlessly revealed by his thin, low cut shirt. You’re entranced by his undulating muscles as he places his arms on the back of the chair, capturing you in his grasp.

You leaned back against the cold metal of the chair, your mouth going dry as Jimin’s lips ghosted over your own, his body rolling against yours. You couldn’t help but whimper, clenching your legs together as Jimin’s demonic hips snapped against yours. He teased you again, briefly brushing his lips against yours, before leaning forward, his body now conducting a much more sinful melody, as he grasped your earlobes with his teeth.

You whimpered louder, the light, teasing stimulation all too overwhelming as Jimin’s essence encompassed you. His teeth at your ear, his intoxicating perfume, the feel of his velvety clothes against you, his hard-on brushing your heated core.

A tremor raced through your body, adding your own accompaniment to Jimin’s song, as your hips arched to meet his. Your fingers danced through his hair, entangling themselves, drawing Jimin’s lips towards your desperate ones.

He kissed you in a crescendo of bliss. Your lips hungrily attacked his, parting under his gentle request, as he finally matched your frenzied desperation. Still, he quickly pulled away, attaching his burning lips to your neck while he sucked and pulled on your skin to the rhythm of your rapidly beating heart.

You were a puddle under his touch, feeling sparks on your skin wherever Jimin brushed against you. You both moaned in pleasure, reveling in each other’s touch, basking in each other’s affection, encompassed by your love.

Every fiber of jealous left you as Jimin replaced it with comfort, confidence, and euphoria. His performance before had been enthralling, but your performance together was magic.


End file.
